Page 90 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 1-4
Jun whirled on his knees, hands reaching for another weapon. He found long metal chopsticks.
A blond man, hair caught up in a ponytail behind his head, soft gray suit hanging from his shoulders, stood in the door, fingers curled into his pockets. He could have been anywhere from Jun’s own age to forty. “The ones raised like dogs. Timid to the hand that broke them; demon to any new master. Bak made one mistake with you.”
“What was that?” Jun didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded like an angry ghost, rough, guttural.
“He didn’t teach you to submit to just anyone. He just made you afraid of him. But something was already in you. Your mother, maybe.” The blond man leaned his shoulder against the door, eyes taking in the room. “There are those who break; those who make you kill them because they will never bend the knee even as a lie; and there are those who break you if you try to break them.”
What did this lunatic even mean?
The blond man drew his hands out of his pockets and held them up, showing Jun his empty palms. “I don’t normally make house calls. But I was the closest. You, Mr. Gang, are too hot to keep. Now this”—the blond man looked across the room—“is a mess. But a smaller mess than what your lover is about to make. I see you’ve made erudite points.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Damian Sathers finds you more valuable than all the money his company makes in this region. In the last few hours, he’s already cost the city thousands of dollars in policing expenses and agency overtime hours. And he’s communicated to some people, who communicated to those I work for, just how much farther he is ready to go. He’s also proven he’s capable. My job was to come here and tell the police chief to get his rocks off elsewhere and let you go. Obviously, you let yourself go.”
“There’s still an entire household of people.”
“Five, actually. The food service staff left already. So now we do have a problem.”
Jun narrowed his eyes. “What, exactly?” They were running out of time. People didn’t stay unconscious forever.
“I’m not supposed to be here. You should have never seen me.” The blond man crouched down just beyond the bloodstained puddle. He wore white gloves. “The police chief should have arranged to send you back in some deniable fashion after I ordered him to. Perhaps even staged a police rescue, claiming that you were snatched by a rich, overzealous fan other than himself. But he left his meeting early just to get here, and I got here late. What you don’t have yet is any kind of evidence other than your own word. You should move.”
“What?”
The blond man took out a lighter. “I really don’t want to kill you, especially as I do think your champion will burn down the world for you, but there’s way too much going on here.” He flicked on the lighter.
Jun scrambled to his feet. The cloak was heavy with liquid. He pulled it off, leaving it in the mess. The blond man dropped the flame into the alcohol. It flashed, and flames three feet high rose between them.
“Vodka burns so well.”
“It was soju.”
“And vodka.” The blond man nodded toward an overturned bottle a few feet away. “The fire alarm will ring any moment. I suppose the foot soldiers will save them.” The blond man spun away on his heel and headed toward the far door, the one that went to the bedroom with the restraints on the bed. Jun ran after him. Cold wind hit him at the outer door. He ripped a soft wool blanket from the bed and wrapped it around himself.
“Keys.” The blond man offered Jun a set. “It belongs to one of the SUVs.”
“I don’t know how to drive.”
The blond man blinked for a moment. “Ah. Well, that rather puts a wrench in things.”
“Are you American?”
“I’m whatever I need to be. Ask less questions. We have–” he checked his watch– “forty-five more minutes to get you to Damian Sathers, and we are over two and a half hours away. Any ideas?”
“Let me call him? Video call him?”
“He’d be a fool to completely believe you.”
Safe words.
“I have ways.”
“And yet we don’t have a phone.”
“Steal one from the house?” Jun looked back. Someone had run into the burning room now. He rounded the corner and pulled the blanket in tighter. The last thing he needed was to be seen. There was screaming.
The blond man bit back a curse and jerked his head. Jun ran after him, cursing his bare feet in the snow.
